So I got sucked into this fandom by accident, but I'm very happy to be here! Seriously, I'm obsessed. And I told myself I wasn't going to ship Dalton and Jaz. Like they had cute moments here and there, but I wasn't going to seriously ship it. And then 1x09 made me go "oh no" and then 1x10 happened and it was more of an "OH NO" and here I am. I am so weak. I mean Dalton cradled Jaz's head in his hands and said "I got you". WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT OTHER THAN FALL COMPLETELY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR THESE TWO?
I'm sorry. Still having feelings about these two. Anyway, this is mostly just an episode tag (because, again, I had feelings and needed to express them) but I will probably be writing more about these two. Title taken from Sleeping At Last's "West".
Big thank you to luverofjamesandlily for reading this over for me (and also listening to me freak out about this show).
Enjoy!
-:-
"They've got Jaz. I repeat, they've got Jaz."
Dalton stared helplessly at the window that Jaz was supposed to have come out of seconds ago. He couldn't move, couldn't think. He was vaguely aware of Preach at his side, saying—saying something. He just kept staring at the window, then through the windshield, not really taking in anything he was seeing, just hearing the phrase they've got Jaz over and over in his head.
"Adam!" Preach said loudly, snapping him back to the present.
He blinked. Think, he had to think. But he could barely do that. He was completely thrown off. It was automatic—he barely registered his mouth moving as he told command what his teammates had told him over coms. That Jaz had been taken. It was automatic as they conjured up a half-formed plan to grab her from the garage. He focused on his breathing as he ran to the car, then to the older SUV. He didn't even bother to break into the car properly, opting to just bust the glass instead.
It was like there was a clock in his head, ticking down the seconds faster and faster until Jaz was out of his reach. Because if they couldn't get her…he knew the protocol. There would be no choice but to leave Jaz. Patricia, try as she might, would legally have to save the rest of the team over one person. That was a conversation with Deputy Director Campbell he didn't want to have.
He slid into the driver's seat of the car, yanking at wires beneath the steering wheel, the engine whining. He groaned in frustration as they sparked uselessly in his hands. "Come on!" he yelled, trying to get the vehicle started. It growled and shuddered but the engine wouldn't turn over. That clock in his head hit zero. Dalton tuned as the vehicle Jaz was in headed towards the exit of the parking garage. Time stood still. There was Jaz, outlined by the half-tinted windows, and all he could do was watch, staring at another window with no way to reach the person on the other side.
-:-
Dalton stared out the window at the people passing on the street. He needed to change, shower, probably needed to eat something. We do not have a choice. That's what Patricia had told him, the same words he'd repeated back to her. They had to get Jaz back—they had to. It hadn't even been a year since they'd lost Elijah, and he couldn't lose anyone else. Especially not her.
But he was coming up short on ideas. The best place to have rescued her was the parking garage and that had failed. He had failed. And that's all he could think about. He could see Jaz, struggling behind that window as the guards had caught her. He could see her, being driven away to who the hell knew where.
And this, the waiting, was what he hated most. He wanted to be doing something. But just like earlier—only a couple hours ago, though it felt like forever—he'd had to stay behind. He'd had to wait in the car while Jaz risked everything to kill Jarif and get out of that hotel. And now he had to wait on D.C. to give him something, anything, he could use to try and come up with another plan to rescue Jaz.
He'd chosen to wait down here, alone, because he couldn't handle the rest of the team right now. They were all looking to him for answers, but he didn't have any. It frustrated him beyond belief. He had a feeling Preach could tell, too, because the other man had kept giving him sidelong glances, trying to find a moment to say something that would make him feel better.
But Dalton knew he wouldn't feel better until Jaz was safe. So he waited.
-:-
Jaz stirred, coming back to her senses. Like earlier, the first thing she noticed was the whiteness of the room and everything in it. Even though she knew the room wouldn't have changed, it was still a shock to open her eyes and see it. Everything was just so bright, and she had to blink a few times to adjust. The second thing she noticed was that man, Arthur, seated in a (white) chair next to her.
"While you were…napping," he started, rolling up her left pant leg and touching her knee with cold hands. She tried not to recoil. "I took the liberty of examining your body."
Her stomach twisted, and she got a sour taste in her mouth. She turned away as he continued to prattle on, trying to get a rise out of her. She focused on something else—the feeling of half dried blood around her nose, the swollenness of her split lip, anything but the feeling of Arthur's hands and where else they might have been when he examined her.
Then, after another minute of him just talking, he brought out the square of thick black fabric. Before she could even puzzle out what it was, he was behind her, thrusting the bag over her head. The sudden blackness was jarring. She couldn't see, felt like she couldn't breathe properly. Her cuffed hands clenched down by her sides. She tried focusing, tried listening. Then she heard the click, and the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed to the back of her head.
She wanted to cry. She bit down on her injured lip, using the pain to draw her back to the present. He won't kill me, she thought. Not yet. I haven't given him anything. Not yet, not yet. Still, her blood froze in her veins. This was it. She was going to die. There would be nothing left of her but red blood in a white room.
Then the gun moved, and before she could take a breath of relief, he fired, right next to her head. She jumped, ears ringing. Her breaths came quicker, heart hammering hard in her chest as he yanked the hood back off and she was blinded once again by the stark whiteness of the room.
Arthur said something about patience, but she could barely hear him. Her ears echoed with the sound of the gunshot.
Patience. She knew they would try to rescue her, that Dalton would try everything in his power to get her out. She knew that it was probably impossible. She just had to be patient. Just had to hold out long enough and keep the attention on her until her team made it out of this country. Until they were safe.
-:-
"I know you're strong," Arthur said, "But would you rather die than have a chance to see your family again? Find love? Have a child? Don't you care about your team? Your team," he shook the pictures in front of her, but Jaz refused to look. She didn't know how they'd gotten the pictures. But it didn't matter. She didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. "They were captured trying to recue you. And you were captured because of your own stupidity.
"And this fellow," he pulled out a picture of a beaten, bloody Dalton, "was killed because of it." She tried not to look. It was all a ruse. Another trick to try and get her to talk. Still, she found herself staring at the photo. "How many more will die? How selfish are you willing to be?"
Jaz took a breath. She was exhausted, but he wouldn't break her. She'd trained for this, and nothing he said would make her give up her team. She wondered if they were out of the country yet, or if it was taking longer because they were compromised. Though, she didn't even know what day it was, what time. There was just the white room. Still, no matter when it was, she hoped they'd gotten to safe territory by now.
Arthur sighed. "Everyone has a breaking point, love. There's no shame in recognizing that this is yours. You have failed your team, and one is already dead."
She frowned, keeping her eyes on the far wall.
"Save the rest by explaining your allegiances."
She nearly laughed at him. They had nothing. If they did, he wouldn't be talking about it, he'd be showing her real proof. She told him as much. And for a moment, she had the upper hand. It was all fake. Her team was alive, safe. And they were getting out of this country. The pictures, the torture, it didn't matter what they did to her, because her team was safe.
That's what she kept telling herself, even as another man walked in and unrolled a pack of tools, selecting a knife that glinted silver in the white room.
Even as he started digging the knife into her flesh, drawing fresh blood, there was a part deep inside of her that was calm, because her team—her guys—were out of harm's reach. Another part of her wished they were coming for her, that Dalton could somehow achieve the impossible and bring her home.
-:-
Adam found himself standing by that same window again. He had to lean against the wall for support. He'd heard what Campbell had said—that their chances of getting Jaz out of the black site were essentially zero—but he wished he hadn't. Because it just confirmed what he'd known all along. The thought made him hollow.
"Sorry, um…" he trailed off, struggling to find his voice. "uh, say again. I—the signal was lost here."
"I'm telling you that you did all that you could," Patricia said from the other end of the com. "And I won't let you, or any other member of your team be killed trying to do the impossible."
She paused, probably waiting for his response. But he didn't really want to talk. There had been so much talking, and all he wanted was to be able to do something. But he couldn't. they were out of ideas, out of options. He and his team excelled at accomplishing the impossible, but the moment when it mattered most, they were stuck. He hated knowing that the next step would be to head back to their base, leaving Jaz behind.
"Adam."
"I know," he replied finally, hating the way those two words tasted as they left his mouth.
"Excuse me?"
Maybe she expected him to put up a fight, but he was exhausted, and trying to fight off the sick, bitter feeling of dreadtwisting inside his gut was sapping the last of his energy.
"I said I know it's impossible. I'm not asking to stay." He half considered getting the rest of the guys out of the country and staying behind to try and free Jaz, but that was a suicide mission and he knew it. Then both he and Jaz would be dead, and that wasn't doing anyone any good. He tried not to think of Jaz, alone, undoubtedly being tortured for information. She would know what the protocol was in this situation, that they would have to leave. He hated thinking that she was holding out hope, waiting for them, for a rescue that would never come.
"We will begin preparing new exfiltration plans for you and your team. It might take a little longer than usual because you've been outed, and we need to be more careful," Campbell paused, but it was all the time Dalton needed for a spark to go off in his head, for the tiniest inkling of an idea to start forming in his mind, "but we will get you out."
"Outed?" Dalton asked, the wheels in his brain turning.
"They have all four of your pictures," Patricia explained. "Which means if you get caught, you will be executed immediately."
"No, not immediately."
"Adam—"
"Not immediately," he repeated, half present. His mind was too busy turning over the numbers, the possibilities of his plan actually working. "They wouldn't execute us immediately if we were outed as spies. They would transfer us to a separate facility for public execution. To be televised—"
"Why are we talking about this?"
Adam knew very well the Deputy Director might not approve of this plan, no matter how badly she also wanted Jaz back. He knew that it could get Patricia in trouble if she went through with it. But it was a plan. If it worked—and it was a big if, he knew that—they could bring Jaz home.
"Because you might have just saved Jaz's life."
-:-
Jaz had known that her team would have to leave Iran. Try as they might to get her out, they would have to leave. What she hadn't known, what she hadn't expected, was that her own government would sell her out to the Iranians. She wanted to believe it wasn't true, that Director Campbell or anyone else who knew she really was wouldn't do that, but it didn't really matter. Because the Iranians believed it, and that meant they were going to kill her.
She took a deep breath and thought of her teams' smiling faces. She thought of McG and Amir teasing each other endlessly, of Preach's proud grin whenever he showed them a new photo of his daughters. She thought of Dalton, the way he always pushed her to do better, his wholehearted trust in her abilities, his advise to improvise should things go wrong.
Things had certainly gone wrong, but suddenly she wasn't afraid anymore.
-:-
It was a blur as the team transferred her from one vehicle to another. She was hurting, exhausted. Killing that sick fuck Arthur had taken the remainder of her energy. She could clearly remember Dalton's face swimming into view, McG there at her side to give her a shot and help move her into the awaiting vehicle. She couldn't focus on the rest of the team, hurrying and shouting around her as they made their escape. At the moment, the only thing that felt real was Dalton's warm presence at her side, his hands as they steadied her, helped guide her into the van. Once inside, his hands cradled her head gently.
"I got you. You're all right." he told her, and beneath his own exhaustion and rush of adrenaline, she could see the clear outline of relief etched into his face.
It was enough to make her own heart settle a little in her chest.
-:-
Everything hurt. Every bump in the road the truck went over sent Jaz's bones jarring. But she tried not to let it show, tried not to tense up every time, because Dalton was right next to her, their bodies nearly flush together beneath the fake bed of the truck. She was laying on the side that hurt more, but she couldn't lay on her other side. She couldn't be face to face with Dalton. Not right now, not when she was nearly ready to shake apart. They still weren't out of Iran yet, and she could feel it in every nerve.
"Talk to me," Dalton said. It was quiet, but she was sure the others heard. Or maybe they were too tense, too focused on the rumble of the truck as they made their way to the border to pay attention to her and Dalton.
It never seemed to matter if there were others in the room, anyway. Sometimes when she and Top talked, everything and everyone else fell away. She trusted every single man on her team with her life, but she and Dalton, they'd been close since day one. She knew that a lot of the time, he had to keep his guard up, distance himself and pretend he didn't care sometimes, because he was their commanding officer. When it came to making the hard calls, that was on him. So distance was sometimes easier for him, she understood that. But there were times when he was just himself around her, and she liked that.
And she so desperately wanted to talk to him now. There was so much she could have said, but what slipped from her cut mouth was, "I should have played things differently." She took a breath, hating the slightest tremor in her voice. "I got us all into this mess."
Her team had come for her. They had come for her. That was the thought that keep running over and over in her brain. She'd known the chances of it actually happening had been slim, and she'd made peace with it. She had signed up to sacrifice herself for her country if need be. But they'd actually come for her. Still, she hated knowing she'd endangered them all, and if anything had happened to Dalton, to any of them—
"Did you kill Jarif?" Dalton asked quietly, as if sensing her thoughts. "The guy who orchestrated the murders of civilians, and children, and your fellow servicemen?"
Jaz swallowed. "Yeah."
"Yeah." His voice was no more than a whisper, but there was a reassuring strength to it that Jaz felt all the way down to her bones. "Are we getting out of this country?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, we are. So then that's it, all right?" Dalton told her firmly, quietly. "You did good. Job done."
Jaz ran her tongue over her split lip, letting Dalton's words sink in. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. Top was right. When she opened her eyes again, she felt like she could breathe better, some of the weight lifted off her shoulders.
-:-
They were driving back through friendly territory, the sunrise washing the sky in shades of pink and purple and orange. Trying to distract himself from thoughts of Hussein's sacrifice and of what might happen with director Campbell, Dalton looked over at Jaz. McG was seated at Jaz's feet, on the other side of the truck bed, Preach having gone to sit up front with Amir. Jaz was perched on one of the crates that hadn't been destroyed, staring off towards the horizon. He wondered what she was thinking. For all the boasting he did of being able to read her, there were times like this that he didn't have a clue what was going through her head.
But he could guess. Because they were so similar, and they were probably thoughts similar to his own. Guilt, fear, going through the events over and over and over, trying to figure out what he—what she—could've done differently.
He'd wanted to say more to her in the back of the truck, wanted to tell her that he'd damn near gone out of his mind trying to get her back. But it hadn't been the time or the place. He didn't know if there would ever be a right time to say something like that. He was her commanding officer, and it would be unprofessional to show how deeply he cared. He cared about his whole team—they were his family. If anything happened to them, he would never forgive himself.
Losing Elijah had been bad enough. After his previous tours, after seeing friends fall left and right, after all the blood he spilled, he didn't want that to happen again. He knew it was unrealistic. This was their job, what they signed up to do, but it still hurt every fucking time one of them got hurt. He was in charge. He was supposed to prevent that from happening. And when Elijah was shot… he'd blamed himself, of course. More than that, he blamed himself for the way Jaz had been hurting after that.
Elijah had been her best friend, and she'd had to catch his dead body as it fell into her arms. It was something familiar to him, watching your friends die, so he knew exactly how she felt. But she still hadn't talked much those first few weeks after it had happened. The first time she'd really shown any emotion after he'd died was when Dalton had told her that they were getting a CIA field operative assigned to their team, after months with no replacement. She'd been pissed. Dalton still remembered the way her eyes flashed with rage beneath all her grief. She usually hid it well, but that day he saw everything she was carrying, and it weighed down on his own shoulders.
Still, despite her initial iciness towards Amir, they'd warmed up to each other. Elijah was always with them, but Amir had fit right into their little family. And Dalton had nearly lost control when they'd almost lost Jaz too. He would have done anything to get any one of them back. But Jaz…he couldn't lose her. He and Jaz had always been really similar, and he trusted her absolutely. He'd always been able to talk to her more easily, too. He and Preach had known each other for a decade, and Preach was good at knowing what he was thinking, at giving him advice when he doubted himself. But Jaz was different. And he'd started to realize maybe just how different his feelings were towards her when he watched her get taken away.
He watched her for a moment longer, noting the dried blood on her forehead, lip, on the legs of the white pants they'd forced her into. He knew there was more under the shirt McG had given her. Though he didn't like it, he knew Jaz could handle the torture. They'd all trained for it. Still, he could tell something else was bothering her. Once again, he found himself wanting to say more, to erase, or at the very least, redo the last 72 hours. He took a breath. He retreated within himself a little, trying to distance himself from the high of emotions from the past few days that he was still coming down from.
"It'll be a little while before we get there," he told her quietly. "You should try and get some rest."
Jaz dipped her head in a shallow nod, not tearing her eyes away from the horizon. "Maybe later."
Dalton waited for a moment for her to say anything else. She didn't.
-:-
Jaz watched as the med team walked away, leaving her alone with McG. They were sitting on a bench inside the base, near the equipment storage lockers. McGuire hadn't left her side since they'd been in the truck, helping her down when they'd gotten on base, and staying with her as the med team checked her out and cleaned her wounds. She was exhausted, and now that she was cleared by medical, all she wanted was to go to her bunk and crash.
McG touched her shoulder. "How you holding up?"
"Fine," she replied. She leaned into his touch, appreciating the comforting gesture. "Really, I'm okay. Bruised and sore, but I'll be fine."
He nodded. McG could talk a lot when he wanted, but he also knew when to take a situation seriously. And though at times he felt a lot like an obnoxious brother, he was a really good man and one of her best friends, and he'd always been supportive of her. She was secretly glad that he'd stayed by her side. She meant it when she said she was fine, but it was also nice to have someone with her.
McG moved his hand down to grasp her own. It was nothing more than another comforting gesture, and she gratefully squeezed his hand back. They just sat quietly for a moment. Amir and Preach were cleaning out the back of the truck they'd used to get out of Iran, while the medics filled Dalton in across the room. Jaz watched as he Dalton listened to what the medics had to say, nodding every now and then. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but considering that they'd told her she wasn't in dire condition, she couldn't imagine it was too bad.
McG must have caught the direction of her gaze, because he said quietly, "You know, Top was going a little out of his mind trying to get you back."
Jaz didn't say anything for a moment. She schooled her features into blankness, despite the skip beat that her heart did. Dalton was…she exhaled slowly. Dalton was complicated. She'd known him for three years. He was her CO, and because of his position, it made sense that he was more reserved. He didn't always participate in their banter and jokes, didn't always open up. But he'd never had a problem talking to her. And it was nice, having someone she could so easily talk to. She'd bottled up a lot of her emotions over the years, hardened a protective shell around herself. It was necessary, when her own father had made his animosity towards her, and the fact that she was a girl, clear from day one.
But she and Dalton had always been able to talk. They didn't do it often, but when they did, it always meant a lot. She hadn't really wanted to talk much at all as they were escaping Iran, but he'd asked, and she found she couldn't hold back from him. To know that he'd lost a little bit of his carefully maintained self control to get her back, to know that someone cared thatdeeply about her…it meant more than she could ever express. No one had ever cared about her that much. And it wasn't just Dalton. Her whole team came for her. They were her family, her true family, she knew that, but it hadn't ever struck her as hard as it did now.
"We were all worried," McG said, after a minute of her still being silent. "Trust me, none of us wanted to leave. We almost did, when Campbell ordered us to, but," he paused long enough for her to look at him. "Top came through with a plan."
"It was risky," she pointed out.
McG shrugged, a little smile quirking up one side of his mouth. "Yeah. Couldn't leave you behind, though." He grinned then, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say whatever hilarious thing he'd come up with in his head. "I mean imagine the paperwork! We'd have to find someone else for overwatch, and Top probably would've put Amir in your place until it could be filled, it'd be a nightmare—"
She pulled her hand away and used the same arm to elbow him lightly in the ribs. McG just laughed, and Jaz couldn't help but smile a little too. "You're such an idiot sometimes," she teased, laughing.
Their laughter quieted as Dalton started to make his way over to them.
McG squeezed her knee gently, moving to get up. "I'll come check on you in the morning."
"You really don't need to," she tried to tell him. "The medics cleared me."
"Too bad." He smiled. "Get some rest. Doctor's orders."
She rolled her eyes, but told him quietly that she'd see him in the morning. McG gave her one more toothy smile before getting up. He nodded with a quiet, "Top," in Dalton's direction before going over to help Amir and Preach finish up.
Jaz looked at Dalton as he sat down on the bench next to her, in the spot that McG had just vacated. His shoulder brushed hers lightly, their thighs nearly touching.He turned his head to look at her, blue eyes scanning her, taking stock of her injuries again now that they were clean. He hid it well, but she could tell that he was still worried about her.
"What did medical have to say?" she asked before Dalton could ask how she was doing.
"Well," he said, letting out a breath, "they said that your condition isn't critical, obviously. But you're still not cleared for duty."
She pinched her lips together, not quite meeting his eyes. She'd kind of expected that. They would've done it to any of the guys had their positions been reversed. Still, it stung. She needed time to recover, of course, but she also knew that after a day or two she would be itching to be back in the field. "How long?"
"A week, at least."
She nearly groaned. When she looked up at Dalton, one corner of his mouth was quirked up, like he knew just how frustrated she was. Then his face grew serious again, and this time Jaz just waited for him to ask the question on his mind.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
She shrugged one shoulder. "I'm fine," she said, repeating the same thing she'd told McG. "I was tortured. It's—we're trained for it, right? So, I'm okay, really. I can handle it."
Dalton looked like he wanted to argue, but he decided against it. "Okay. You let me know if anything changes, though."
"Top—"
"Just keep me informed," he said firmly. "Got it?"
She nodded slowly, swallowing. "Yeah. Got it."
Dalton just looked at her a moment longer. She held his gaze, waiting. His features softened, mouth twisting. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly.
Her brow furrowed. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault. I messed up, and—"
"No, not that," he interjected quietly. "You didn't mess up. And I—well, it's not about that. I meant I'm sorry about making you think that the government betrayed you. It was my idea, to have you outed. It was the only way to get them to move you, so we could step in. But I know that must have been shitty, thinking that we'd turned our backs on you."
"You got me out," she said, just as quietly, twisting her hands in her lap to keep from reaching for him. "That's all that matters. Job done, right?"
He smiled a little at that. "Right." He was quiet for a moment. The he squeezed her hand before standing. "You should get some sleep," he told her, slowly letting go. He raised an eyebrow, smirking just so. "Captain's orders."
She breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. All these damn orders," she muttered as she stood too, but she was smiling. Dalton gave her a small grin, and for a moment, all she could do was twist the sleeves of the shirt McG had given her in her hands. Dalton touched a guiding hand to her back as she stepped towards the bunk area.
Just as she was about to head to her bunk, Dalton gently grabbed her upper arm, slowing her to a stop.
"Jaz,"
She turned and tipped her head back a little to look at him better.
He licked his lips, looking around like he was trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. Then he looked at her and she held his gaze steadily. "I know it was a risky plan," he said finally. "It could've gone south real quick, but I want you to know…you were worth the risk."
Jaz's lips parted just so as she let that sink in. Dalton was looking at her intently. She felt her heart thrum in her chest, a lump rising in her throat. She was suddenly struck with the realization that she almost hadn't seen him again. Her last memory of him had almost been the slightly worried but trusting look on his face, wearing those ridiculous glasses that he still managed to pull off, while he told her to improvise.
"Thank you," she whispered, hoping that by talking quietly her voice wouldn't break, even as she felt her eyes sting with the very beginnings of tears, "for coming back for me."
Dalton gave her a soft smile, reaching for her and taking one of her hands into his own. His fingers were warm, calloused like her own, grip gentle and firm at the same time.
"I've got your back," he said lowly, gaze fond. "We don't leave anyone behind."